Personal Growth Goals: February
As an adult, I think I’ve (mostly) got my shit together. I’m reasonable when it comes to my finances (go away ULTA/EXPRESS/KOHLS/AMAZON) and I’m semi-successfully holding down a job I really enjoy. By no means am I perfect (in fact, I suck at a lot of things-- I’m okay with this most days), but I think I’m doing pretty well for myself with all things considered.
This aside, there are things about myself that I constantly vow to change (and then I don’t change at all.). Ask any of my coworkers, or friends in recent years, and they’ll tell you about the total mess that is my car. I’ve been historically horrid at keeping a clean vehicle, and the current state of affairs that my somewhat new car is in supports this.
I tell myself constantly that I’m going to clean it up. I’m going to take care of my pretty little red car. I’m gonna do it. I get myself pumped up and then the moment I sit down in the vehicle, I immediately double back on the promises I made myself.
‘It’s too cold.’
‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘I don’t have time today.’
I used to see a therapist when I was younger. I had been through a lot during my 13th year of life and spent a good week in a center for troubled youths. I used to lie awake at night and wonder what everyone around me what do if I were suddenly gone. I would fantasize about disappearing out of my life. I would dream of dying.
Maybe this is normal 13 year old stuff. Maybe not.
These thoughts led me to one day considering and damn near making an attempt on my own life. I thought that I was friendless and alone. I thought that no one would understand the deep waters that I was drowning in. Somedays, I still feel those waters creeping over my head.
I spent 6 days in a home, surrounded by peers of mine who had arguably lived through much worse than I would ever dream of, and when I was allowed to come home, I brought home a new perspective and a pack of little green pills that were supposed to balance me out.
Day three of my stay in said home, I had learned to cut the pills in half because I wouldn’t be able to eat otherwise. I realized that the medicine I was given had a powerful impact on my body and that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
I began seeing a therapist, recommended by the therapists that had with me during the worst of it, and she was a wry woman in what I assume was her mid-forties. What I remember most is that she had bright red curly hair and a white board behind her desk. She would often challenge me to think differently, and one time, after learning of my love of Harry Potter, she had pulled out a wand and asked me, “If I could magic away one aspect of your life, what would it be?”
I thought for a moment and replied with one of those instinctual answers that scare you as the words come out of your mouth, but also feel like one of the most truthful things you could say.
“I wish I could magic away my mom’s alcoholism. I don’t want to take anything else away about my life, because it would change who I am, but I would like to get rid of that.”
She paused for a moment, placed the wand back in the box, and took a breath.
“That’s probably one of the best answers I’ve heard yet.”
Now, I don’t want to convey the wrong image here, she and I weren’t always on these great terms where we would dissect the most intimate and frightening parts of my life with the wisdom of much-lived crones. Sometimes, I wanted to pull my headphones out of my backpack and drown her out because I was 13 and I knew everything.
She asked me one day, “How’s school? How do you feel with having changed so much in such a short period of time?”
I responded in a noncommittal way, and she asked about my homework.
My eyes darted to the poster (that I now know was one of M. C. Escher’s works), and I tried to avoid answering. I could see that my response had frustrated her in a bit. When she asked me why I hadn’t done as I’d promised and made a better effort to do my homework, I told her that I simply didn’t have enough time.
I had been at my dad’s, and I had wanted to spend that time with him.
“So, you think your dad would have minded you doing your homework?” She asked pointedly, and I was just beginning to realize the hole I had dug myself into. I stared at the Escher poster again.
“You know what.” She looked at me across her desk, “I was going to try and put a different quote on the board, but I think you’ve just let me know that that’s not the right thing to do. I’ll need to change it back.”
She had said these words calmly, but I felt as if she were shouting at me. I felt my cheeks burn as she erased a quote that I know I would never see again and wrote “NO EXCUSES” in big red letters.
No excuses.
I still think about this moment when I’ve pushed off another Blog Post Tuesday-- a holiday that I put in my calendar so that I would write a blog post on a weekly basis.
Returning to my car and, I’ve decided to create a monthly Personal Growth Goal. This/these goals won’t be super large goals that can be seen as a life changing endeavor, but are small goals to round me out as a person.
For February, I intend to say “NO EXCUSES” and start taking care of the little things in my life (i.e. the previously mentioned car and my inbox for that matter). I also intend to learn the map of the United States because it is a total shame that I can’t locate each state and capital. I’ve lived here my entire life. I need to get my shit together.
For February, I intend to say “NO EXCUSES” and start taking care of the little things in my life (i.e. the previously mentioned car and my inbox for that matter). I also intend to learn the map of the United States because it is a total shame that I can’t locate each state and capital. I’ve lived here my entire life. I need to get my shit together.
